


My Words Are Hidden Behind Your Lips

by anhedonic



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anhedonic/pseuds/anhedonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This love burns you and maims you and twists you inside out." <em>Crimson Peak</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Words Are Hidden Behind Your Lips

_You're killing me_. He wants to yell it. He wants to take Suoh by the shoulders and shake him until his brain is rattled, until he can get a response that is different from his usual nonchalance. He wants that piercing gaze to reflect understanding, perhaps even a little guilt. Munakata would be satisfied if he could make Suoh even a little remorseful for what he does to him.

But that does not mean he wants this to stop.

If he was a wiser man, he would have put an end to this long ago. He knows this, contemplates it often when he’s away from this disaster of a king. He knows that chasing Suoh is like chasing the smoke that man breathes in, exhales, seems to live on. He can come close, but he will never be able to clasp his hands around it, claim the warm wisps for his own. It billows upward, untouchable, untraceable, until it is no more. For all everyone is drawn to Mikoto, no one can ever catch him; he is a fire, an unstoppable force, something beautiful to look at and destructive and _terrifying_ , but impossible to live without once they have felt its warmth. And so he’s passed around, flickering until he’s burnt out and tired and has nothing left to give. But the embers that remain, perhaps those are what Reisi is left with. The pitiful hope that maybe he can keep the fire going, that he can be the one to save the heat and keep it and not let anyone else touch it.

The love he has for Suoh burns him, maims him, twists him inside out until he is left feeling too exposed; until scorched lungs that lead to a raw throat are laid bare, and he can feel himself dying. He can no longer hide behind the words he’s grown so fond of. Suoh understands him in ways no one else could possibly comprehend; sees down to the core of his being, burning away at blood, bone, even ash until there is nothing but the most pure form of Reisi. And he hates it. He can’t stand that lazy gaze that pierces right through him. It puts him on edge, makes him want to squirm, to try to free himself from how his skin crawls at the very thought of it. But he can never escape it, continues chasing what he can never contain, but which already has him trapped.

And how ironic it is. If Reisi was more of a sadist, or perhaps better humored, he would laugh. Even as Mikoto’s wrists are pinned to the mattress in each of Reisi’s hands, he is the one who feels entirely helpless. Mikoto smirks, catches Reisi’s eyes, holds them and seems to say _I got you_.

 _I can’t escape_ , Reisi’s reflects, but never speaks. It’s hard to form words while under hellfire.

Mikoto rolls his hips, and Reisi understands the cue. He pulls out, slams back in, and his mind goes blank. He blocks out the intrusive thoughts, blocks out anything that isn’t purely _Mikoto_. He lets that impossible heat get to him, and he thinks he understands now the scale of a forest fire. The spread of a small spark can set everything into a state of chaos within a matter of seconds, and Reisi feels it. With every touch, every kiss, every thrust, his nerves seem to short-circuit, snap, feed into the spreading fire that’s engulfing every fibre of his being.

His lips devour Mikoto’s – starved and desperate as Reisi tries to get as much as he can out of this flame before it burns out. He’s moving against him, pressing their chests together and ignoring the almost painful friction as he tries to get impossibly close. He’s being burned alive, he’s hot all over, and all he can do is beg for more. Mikoto’s legs tighten around his waist, like he can read Reisi’s mind. He wouldn’t be surprised if he could. The man has wormed his way into the very recesses of Reisi’s conscious, refuses to leave him be. Even when Suoh is gone, Reisi can’t get away.

Reisi’s lips travel down Mikoto’s neck, leaving a trail of marks in their wake as if he could _somehow_ finally catch him, claim him, get his own share of the fire everyone else seems to have if only he could leave his own unique print upon him. But he knows the marks will fade. Of course it could never work – claiming something implies the ability to tame it. A fire can not be made to behave, cannot be set in a container. It will break free, destroy everything in its surroundings. Reisi is living proof.

They’re gasping now, trying to find the air that Reisi learned not to miss long ago. He feels vindictive, in a way. In these moments, he can give Mikoto a taste of what it’s like to have lungs seared to the point that breathing _hurts_ , that each intake of air brings a raw, burning sensation that is desperate and horrific and _thrilling_. He wants to make Suoh know exactly what he does to him. Maybe then he would understand – _you’re killing me_.

Reisi releases Mikoto’s wrists to grab his neck, wrap his fingers around his throat and _squeeze_. He can hear a choked laugh beneath him, feel arms wrap around his back to pull him closer. And even as he’s suffocating, Mikoto looks entirely too smug. It’s a look that Reisi understands to mean that Mikoto has him figured out, that he knows Reisi could never use the chance to escape even if he wanted to. Reisi’s fingers tighten as a defiant reflex.

Mikoto is turning a lovely shade of red, almost matching his hair as he works twice as hard to breathe, smirking and choking out moans through the entire ordeal. Munakata feels the edges of his eyes burning as he watches, wants to simultaneously squeeze until the man writhing beneath him can’t handle it, and let go, kiss the bruised throat and say _I’m sorry_ – for his resentfulness, for what he already knows truly can’t injure a king.

Munakata listens with rapt attention to each rasping gasp, can hear as the oxygen fights its way to abused lungs. Reisi leans down to kiss him and deprive him of even more of that precious air he isn’t getting enough of. Mikoto reciprocates, acts like he could not care less about the fact that Munakata may as well be killing _him_ now. And how funny the thought is – Munakata’s desperation to make Mikoto understand is met with the indifference so typical of him.

They don’t last long after that, crashing down with near-whispers of almost-names as they climax. Reisi’s grip on Mikoto’s throat loosens, his fingers resting there and absently stroking at the purple-stained skin. He pulls out, but Mikoto’s legs don’t unwind from his waist. They pull him closer, beckon him to lay chest-to-chest, hips aligned as they catch their breath.

And when Mikoto raises a hand to card through Munakata’s hair, Munakata sighs, feels another piece of himself slip away with the action. He’s sure Mikoto must be taking whatever he is losing of himself – it has to go somewhere, after all. He looks back up, leans his head into the touch, and locks eyes with Mikoto.

 _I love you_ , he wants to say. But the words won’t come – they never do, never will. Mikoto has taken his ability to speak when he needs it most, steals his words and thoughts and everything that made Munakata who he once was. His throat is scorched, parched to the point that words remain a thick lump of ash at its base. They’re too heavy, but he thinks he’d choke on them if he even tried to get them out.

But there’s that odd half-smile, half-smirk again, that piercing gaze, and now Munakata’s sure he _must_ have taken something essential from him.

 _I love you_ , like a mirror, that smile repeats.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A quick, disorganized, barely edited one-shot inspired by a quote from Crimson Peak. I had been wanting to try a new writing style that I typically loved to read for almost a year now, but I never quite found a ship that felt right for it until I got really into MikoRei. It was a nice experiment, for both getting better acquainted with my feelings on this pairing and with this new writing style.


End file.
